Best Voice Poems
With a sigh summer citrine sky turned green
spontaneously into existence.
Autumn's palette adds changes and are seen
to its systematic experience.
Stars shiver in fear on the coldest night.
Voices in the darkness look for refuge;
heaven bound birds gather in distant flight
sailing through winds dusty powdered steel rouge.
The long day is dead; voices won't let me sleep.
Hush. Hush. The voices echo in emptiness.
Whiff of sandalwood lost in shadows deep.
The voices know my loneliness, the nothingness.
Amber encroaches the dawning of morning fight
through window curtains the whitest lace of light.
MONSTER
Shackles nor chains, can't change what it is.....
Never was it, the one hiding under the bed,
It was me, tired of it getting inside my head
.... I can still feel, the groping at my feet,
Pulling me from under the sheet,
A victim to your personality
Nothing can, uninstall these walls
--- Walls of bricks, that can't be taken down
On the night, I've learned of your return
My bones began to shiver, as they too shudder,
remembering every black tinge feeling left behind.
Before the bricks, your filth put my innocence into your victim's box
Without a voice, I fell with no one to rescue me...
Sometimes, I wondered who else had to look into its heinous eyes
Nights without security, you crept in' with every morning cry
With nowhere to hide, I found myself constantly victimized.
Nefarious, at my bedside, how did I manage to survive?
Unwanted communication, stole my youthfulness away,
So young, yet persistent diabolical stories hide inside
Bones turned into a tomb of stones
Decayed and withered years, never to be unveiled
Some stain will never wear off or be forgotten
The monster, I once helped shut down,
Soon to return on another bedside,
Now, someone else will close their eyes,
And hear the monster's whisper, "Shh, don't tell, or else!"
And just to think for a moment I felt safe, the air felt different
Now, I feel dirty all over again,
No one can fix or put the ease back to sleep.....
Just as long as it still LIVES'
***
#Monsters Living in Our Society
#Let's take them down one by one
“and the birds twitter like whispering violins”
Quote by – Constance La France
Whiffs of fragrant breeze propagate tranquility
Kissing delicate roses, blushing amber beauty,
Rustling leaves of willows, as if tenor of music,
Swaying blades of grass shimmying moods of winds,
Sounding lyrics esoteric echoing voice of spring;
Humming softly to rhythms of dancing daffodils,
Quivering golden rays peeking through trees,
Burbling on rivers, rippling giggling tributaries,
Fluttering in glee, whispering to sunlit prairies,
Swinging tender revelry lilting in shadows,
Thrilling meadows budding through wintry throes,
Reviving weary realms, thriving withered knolls;
Grinning from mountains, atop lush valleys,
From shores of Pacific to shores of Atlantic,
Through the mighty Rockies, across Great Plains,
Lyrical, jubilant, exuding aura of happiness,
Enchanted by sweet ballad of robins’ daydreams
Strumming melodies of mellifluous spring.
May 16, 2023
Placed 2nd: Writing Challenge A quotes – Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Placed 8th: Brian Strand Premier Contest
Dear men,
Explain to me why I stand alone.
Women are quick to uplift their father, sons, and brothers
Quick to maintain the home,
But when she needs support,
A woman stands alone
Explain to me why a woman has to stay in her “place”
Is there no room for a woman who is more than a pretty face?
Is there no room for a woman who can stimulate you intellectually
Or is it a woman’s only duty to please you sexually?
Explain to me why beating a woman gives you power
It gives you strength
Is masculinity so fragile
That you can’t maintain?
Without getting pleasure from pain
Explain to me why your brother goes scott free
When he takes advantage of a woman
While she is left to be ridiculed, blamed
As society throws dirt on her name
And she falls victim to her own demise.
I despise
The men who are so oblivious to their own privilege
That they think patriarchy is normal
Excuse my language
As I speak a bit informal
For you to understand
That you cannot catcall me as I walk down the street
It’s disgusting and demeaning
No I am not obligated to give you my number
Just because you ask and think you are getting a pass at me
No I don’t need you to hold the door open or carry my groceries
I am a strong, independent woman and your belief that I am weak
Is insulting
No I do not have to give you my body just because you bought me a drink
My body belongs to me
No matter what you tell yourself or think
Dear men,
You can no longer say that you are ignorant to my issues or my demands
Because I have clearly listed it for you to see.
Now only a real man
Will know, that women deserve equity
I leave the daily hustle and bustle
and the cacophony of city sound.
And head to where the leaves softly rustle
in the breeze, and no one else is around.
When I'm alone, I experience peace
that raises my soul to a higher plane.
And anxiety's attacks slowly cease,
free from critical critiques and disdain.
Seclusion fuels imagination;
shaping reality within my mind.
And it's a feeling of liberation;
unrestricted by rules of any kind.
Whenever I seek solitude by choice,
I heed the whispers of my inner voice.
Hiding here inside my closet, I feel safe in the dark
knowing on a pile of sheets lies my very psyche;
it's only a thought, yet I am unhurt among drawers…
so I curl and stare blank, imbibing bits of gentle
murmurings that whisper on hangers as they
sway with the lint...I strain to listen
but prickly voices gush out of reach
from the sleeves of a night
like a conversation behind closed knobs…
I hear yet can't quite grasp
what my heart wants to say in low dips ;
like a tremolo carrying mould of twilight...
it hums all sermons of a Sunday church bell
speaking in tongues I knew once...long ago.
The moon folds around me in black suds
washing a laundry of venting desire, only to find myself
trapped by needles…I feel a stab, a grating chill: perhaps,
I have no language when no one wants to listen.
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke 6/12/2020
I'll always be here for you,
where else would I go.
But for you, my heart is lost,
in dream..
to counting sheep,
and always will be so.
I don't need a better picture of you..
than the one that plays in my mind.
Two hands held so close to my heart,
and you always were so kind.
Keep me near like a smile..
one you used to hide.
A whisper of your beautiful name
to my faithful heart.
It's never too far..
after all,
my hands hold back approaching tide..
to catch you when you fall.
I'll always be here for you,
where else would I go.
~ Yolanda was--her name ~ Featuring:) Leonora Galinta
From a hell storm,
A mighty she-devil took on its form
Like a woman scorn ascending from the sea
Haiyan whipped across the central Philippines,
A deadly typhoon, maximum winds of around 315
Terrorizing the fragile mind before making landfall
Hitting with the center eye off from her hostility
A merciless turbulence that came and changed everything
Like a Massive Storm
She comes in as the wise thief of the day and night,
In her notorious gust of rage roars in disguise of thunder,
With the company of her own knight of darkness,
Raze all in a blast of waves wherever her path crosses,
Ruining one of the cities down to a devastation in the land
“Pearl of the Orient Seas.”
A mighty tempest in a woman’s name…. Yet,
A disgrace with more than an immortal man in strength,
Nature devouring nature itself
Including her stewards and stewardesses
An unmerciful encroachment, robbing, killing adults and children.
Yolanda, so cruel in her evil walloping!
A guest left smiling,
Engraving echoes of tears, from every single mourn
Vain, wicked, and colorless -no other air’s compare
The lives she stole, one heart at a time
Pouring down the most nauseating rain,
The pain is dissenting with everyone-- everywhere.
The bully of wind, invading sands of serenity
Unknowingly, far beyond your back----------------------------
Everybody will be summoning up more than your strength-
:)
Introducing: Casarah Nance & Poet Destroyer
Scars of empty promises are darkened by your kiss.
Torturous touches are meant to soothe my pain.
It is without gain, without pleasure, beyond measure,
You are the puppet master, strung on dark days, a haze.
Specter of solitude, you confine me with your magnitude,
What purpose do I serve, is slavery what I deserve?
Tell me your intention, sate me with your perfection.
Shed a light into this soul starved sanctuary,
Come, whisper your words in my ear, complete me…
A sweet surrender to your call, a will of solitude
I lead the way, cutting strings attached to the light
Touching every breathing strand stressing yesterday
Giving you room to fall into my designated despair,
Adding, to your creeping gloom, I give and lend pouring pain,
the kind of pain, that begs for blades
Abhorring the taste of life, your flesh empowers my darkness
My intentions are nothing more, than a shadow bearing strength,
Smiling at your tears, caressing your lips,
Taking from the closure your soul seeks tonight
Blind! You will become to the misery, in this barren place
The pain of rigor mortise will blend against your pale skin
A slave without shackles,
I concur with pleasure to feed the hunger, you give
Forever, I am DARKNESS
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
imagination
c a p t u r e s
emotions
expression
r e l e a s e s
heart
Susan Ashley
November 18, 2020
Poetry Form: Brevette
Poet’s note: Inspired by, but not written for, Joseph May’s contest “In Just A Few Words”, judged 10/31/2020, using six words and six lines in the Brevette poetry form.
Adorable, enticing as beauteous glance,
Engaging, evocative as a ballet dance
Luring passions flaunting moody stance;
Poetry is music strumming from heart,
Lyrics of life emblazoned in poetic art.
It’s a smile of Venus on moonless night,
Ruby rose abloom midst wintry plight;
Verses of harmony embossed in rhyme
Of wisdom, witty words, eternal as time,
Expressions of mind streaming sublime.
Poetry is nourishment to vacuous soul,
Meaningful words inner voices extoll,
Metaphors, simile, elusive moods cajole;
Musings inimitable~ we cannot clone,
Neither can we cage, nor can we own.
Endearing, amiable~ it’s ballad of love,
Pure, passionate, as cooing of a dove;
A lighthouse guiding ships through dark,
On vacant thoughts, enlightened spark,
Charming dismal morn, a song of lark.
I gather in the scarred
and broken forms,
the lipped imperfections
that score the wind
to give voice to an evening.
I see through the lesions
that open to a stillness
into which the universe
whispers its unfolding.
I feel the awe,
the sheer enormity
that confronts the senses
as all that is
opens into endlessness,
the mind wilting
at its door,
leaving only these hands
to shape offerings which,
like shells held to an ear,
echo only the faint murmurs
of what cannot
be contained.
S l e e p feels like a pathological lie ~
deranged dialect
spoken from the tongue of traitors,
and I listen to the heinous haze
of the insomniac breeze
moving to the splitting silver
of Judas’s coins,
a reflection of an estranged estuary
with no island left to revisit...
For I’ve seen it ~
all alone,
tasted the tormented
tones of tornadoes,
their truth tender,
warmer than the vicious voice in my head,
gaslighting my mind,
betraying my faith
clouding my soul’s compass
to believe in the
phantom fallacies painted
and pigmented
from my own poisoned perspectives,
the forest serpents of fears
sojourning in the skin,
hiding the terror
left in the arteries of abandonment.
But what would the
cynical mirror of existence reveal
when everything I have learned
was written from the crippled ink
of a burdened storm,
carrying chaos amidst calmness,
unable to grasp grey,
as hope feels like the
devil in a dress,
drenched in deception.
And I hurt
like an infant left unloved,
oblivious to the eagle anthems,
threatened by aerial oaths,
as I am the architect of darkness,
not a victim,
but the turmoil to the
Sun and the Moon,
living in the macabre
valleys thriving in shame,
as my inner child still dreams
in cursed colors of crestfallen angels.
The toxic tune in my head,
the venom within my veins,
the cataclysmic carnelian
beneath my feet ~
O beloved bloom unblemished,
remove yourself
from this collapsing castle
of cruelty numbed,
where dahlias grow from doom
and skeletons wear my name.
I am trauma
a walking juxtaposition
suffocating your silence,
aching for assurance,
ricocheting like rust
of infernal flames ~
so wipe the traces hanging
on the smoke-kissed
screens of stillness,
burn the addictive
madness of my name...
Let these ashes be,
as nocturnal stars
watch me turn into
a sonnet, unrhymed
and
u n f
i n
i s
h e d …
The Voice…
On a dark night that was darker than my pain,
nothing was there for me except to complain.
I hid myself in the emptiness of bed.
Nothing was there except loneliness instead.
I heard a sound that was not like any sound.
Joyously called my name, sought me, and then found.
He told me to get up, wake up look at dawn.
The darkness of the night soon will be all gone.
The voice told me that morning dawn, full of light;
has the power to wash darkness from its night.
The voice asked me about the days of my youth.
That I am old and grey, with forgotten truth.
I asked him that who are you, and what are you?
I don't know you, didn’t see you passing through.
Who are you that suddenly came to my room?
Aren’t you God, and I am, meeting my doom?
I called your name many times when I was young.
I prayed your name day and night with broken tongue.
Now, you are calling my name in this day and age;
not worth talking to you; anger creates rage.
I am too old, and I had too many sins,
Living is the only game that nobody wins.
Go and bother another soul beside me,
I am tired of you; you shall never be.
The voice told me that I was out of my mind.
And I have been beguiled, as though I am blind.
He told me that he was with me the whole time.
He let me to fly in this paradigm.
He told me that he is the end of a start.
He is the love that cries from an aching heart.
He told me that he is water in the spring.
He is those nightingales who so blithely sing.
He told me that he is bottom, and he’s up.
He is grapes, and he is wine in the same cup.
He told me that he gave feathers for a flight.
He made it so the sun shall set within night.
I asked him if I could see him with my eyes,
I will be like the moon, lighting up the skies.
That I looked for any sign to believe him,
with just all promises, dreams maybe all grim.
He told me to wake up, open up my eyes,
and see what is to see, a blessing in disguise.
I did open my eyes saw a glowing bright,
like a drifting shadow, in an ocean of light.
I saw my son saying, "Wake up! Wake up! dad",
What’s the matter with you? Are you going mad?
5/14/16 Haloo
Why are you so sad ?, Have you lost anything ??
If lost, then what ??? I think it is nothing.....
You stepped earth with your empty hand,
after death you will need only six feet land.
Then, calculate what you lost ?
And, what is it's cost ??
People earn only fame to grow their name.
They alive even after death.
Hence, try to win your faith.
Remember always, God means duty.
No other short cut path to almighty.
Then, what is duty ??
Work with no return desire is real duty,
which caps your success enhancing your beauty.
If duty is certified by your soul,
Easily, you can reach your goal.
Then, what is soul ???
The god within you is soul,
And, it plays a very vital role.
A purified soul can only fly to kingdom of God.
So, it changes body after body for cleaning all mud.
It follows a cycle of birth and death,
at the end, makes a pleasant stay
with God, the supreme truth.
I hate ego, but love service with devotion,
Devotion , that always invites perfection.
And ego !!!
Ego, a monster within you
that compel you to lag your race,
bringing tension and fostering darkness.
kill it, before it kills your goodness.
In devotion, a man sees God in everything
and everything within God,
He will never come to a bad end
who will see lotus in every mud.
Behind every shadow, there is a light,
And after every tear, a smile.
Don’t sleep like stone
Petting your life.
God is time,
the great destroyer of the world
and is called death.
Offering yourself to God
march ahead and ahead
up to your last breathe.
Always keep in mind,
You stepped earth with your empty hand,
After death you will need only six feet land.